Don't Be A Hero
by TheScholarOfSin
Summary: First story, work in progress, appreciate all forms of criticism including flames. SI, MOC. Alex is no hero, he has his crappy job, his crappy life, but he has his games. The only place where he can be the hero, the savior, the victor. The problem is, games are not real life. Right? Discontinued due to being crap, check profile for the new version!
1. Chapter 1

I woke to black, pitch black, like the kind that is described as the "can't see your hand in front of your face kind". The kind that you hear about in books, described by the protagonist, that you think is a good description, but can't really be real.

Then came the sounds, the rise and fall in pitches of a orchestra of violins, the soft tones of voices. Requiem Mass, in D minor of course. I recalled it from when i was a child and my mother would play it to calm herself between arguments with my father.

I sit up to the best of my ability and look for what is making this music I know so well. As stated previously though, I can't see a thing.

After realizing that the search for the music would be pointless, I reside myself to laying back down. the floor I lie on is cold, stone, and yet is somehow comfortable on my aching back.

I try to think how I got here, what the hell could have happened to me to get me in this strange place. Then, it all comes back, as if a wall has fallen in my brain and suddenly the memories that somehow escaped my grasp now seem to slam into me.

It was a cold night, a little humid maybe, and the air felt dead, the only breeze was from passing cars. the drivers of said cars almost seemed in taking glee of passing inches to the side of pedestrians making their way home from work. the headlights would always blind you, the lights reflecting off of the sides of the tightly packed buildings, homes, and stores. Alas, the sins of living in New York. I had grown used to the crazy drivers that seemed to take red lights as a suggestion, and the blinding lights, I suffered through them every day on the way home from my dead-end job.

As another pair of headlights flash, I get a glimpse of myself in the dirt ridden glass of a shop i am currently passing. I see a lanky seventeen year old, with short black hair, pale skin, and green eyes. all decked out in jeans, and a crappy old blue jacket. My mother would kill me for going out in the cold like this, no heavy coat, no thick pants, no giant boots. Well she would, if she was still around.

As I pass by the window, shaking myself out of my internal musings, I pass an alley. I was going to keep walking, but then I heard it. A small pitiful squeak, definitely feminine. I tell myself to keep walking, not my business, not my problem. But something keeps me from passing by. a small sense of heroism, no clue why. and I steel myself, and walk into that alley.

I will regret that decision.


	2. Chapter 2

The alley was average, as alleys go, brick buildings made up the two sides, but that's all I could see. It was dark here, no source of light, and the weak orange tinged light from the street lamps wasn't strong enough to reach past the first few feet between the buildings.

It was the cars that showed what had stopped me from walking, as one passed the headlights lit up the space in front of me for a second. it was a woman, small in all meanings of the word. She couldn't have been over five feet tall, and she had seemingly no muscle. She was struggling to take her purse back from a man. This man was the exact opposite of the woman, well over six feet tall, and he looked like he could bench press an elephant.

The first thoughts in my mind were along the lines of how textbook this crime was, a purse snatcher? Really?

My voice seemed to take a mind of its own, and before I could stop it, I made myself known to these two people. "Hey you!" my voice was the picture of control, it sounded confident, unwavering, and it had purpose behind it. The man paused in his struggle for a moment, surprised, and the woman took her opportunity to win the impromptu tug-of-war. She ran by me, she did not even call the police as I had expected her too.

As the man left his surprised state, he seemed to study me, to see if the weak looking boy in front of him could actually back up that confident tone. I tried to hold steady, to maintain control, I had hoped he would insult me and leave at the very best, or at the worse beat me to a pulp. As his eyes locked to mine, I made a mistake, I flinched. His sneer deepened even further.

He now knew that the boy in front of him was just that, a boy.

His sneer turned into a smile that sent chills down my spine, "So it looks like you are just a wuss then, had me going there for a second." he lingered over every word, enunciating each and every syllable with malice.

Shit, I knew I was in deep, deep shit. I was going to get my ass handed to me on a silver platter. I wasn't one to fight in real life, been in a few, I like to think I handled myself very well. One look at this man though, and I knew I stood no chance. He looked like he hit like a truck, and could take hits like one too. Then as I saw him reach into the pocket of his filthy jeans I knew somthing bad was about to happen. A knife? Maybe a phone to call his buddies to join in on the beating? It was worse. He pulled out a short and stubby revolver, looked cheap and rusty, but he pulled the hamer back just fine.

"Hand over you wallet, or anything else you got on ya punk, and we won't have any trouble."

The sane person would give him their wallet, phone, watch, hell anything just to get him to put that gun away. Sadly the heroic part of my brain was in charge of my voice at the moment, and it was never known for its sanity.

"No"

my voice held none of the confidence it did previously, and wavered like crap, but it had its intended effect as the worst possible thing to say in this situation.

The man frowned, then his face turned neutral and he gave a small shrug.

"Doesn't make a difference to me"

That was the only warning I got, I didn't hear the gun go off, I only saw the small muzzle flash and the sick grin that split his face. Then, I felt it, liquid running down the left side of my chest, accompanied by white hot pain spreading through my body.

I would like to say I laughed in the face of death, that I felt acceptance, but in reality all I felt was confusion. All I am, all I could ever become was ended by my smart mouth and the paper in my wallet. 'My journey ends here' was the only thought going through my head as my body hit the ground with a dull thud.

If only I knew how wrong that statement was.

 **AN: Hey guys this is only the second chapter in the story and I have already received feedback that I thought was way out of proportion, before posting this I had only posted around five hundred measly words to this site, and I received two reviews and three PMs! thanks so much for the feedback guys! Please realize that this is really the first thing I have ever written, and I will mess up, and I rely on you guys to tell me how I messed up.**

 **Chapters will not be posted every day, but this story will be updated once a week eventually when I plan on making chapters longer. (haven't decided on days yet…)**

 **Until then, Thanks so much for your support guys! expect more in the near future!**

 **~Sin**


	3. IMPORTANT AN

**AN:Hey guys, I have realized that this story is kinda crap, and will be rewriring it in 3rd person, chapters will be fully revised by next week.**


	4. RE WRITTEN CHECK PROFILE

**AN: Hey guys the revised version of this is posted on my profile! Don't Be a Hero V2**

 **Check it out!**


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